little bit better
by antarcticas
Summary: Rachel, post-boo. This is trash. / leorachel, for querencia


**NOTE: PLEASE DON'T READ THIS. This story was written at night while I was half asleep just to finish it in time for a deadline. I threw in the prompts so that they're there. They don't really make a great storyline. It's terrible, and I really truly mean it. I will be taking it down after the grading for Querencia (the forum this is written for) is done.**

* * *

 **Title:** little bit better

 **Summary:** Rachel, post-boo. This is trash. / leorachel, for querencia

 **Prompts:** sea-blue, Leo/Rachel, Faking It — Calvin Harris & Kehlani & Lil Yachty, New Rome, Reyna has been suddenly and inexplicably swarmed with adoring fans and needs help getting them to back off

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Rachel hates New Rome. She hates the clear-cut, sea-blue fountains, hates the cool Californian air, hates that it's another world she will never be a part of. She is in-between and she hates it.

Not Greek and Roman. Both, now, now that Octavian is dead. She internally wishes he wasn't. He wasn't a good man, wasn't a good person, but he shared a similar fate to her. He perhaps would have been the only one to understand her plights — how hard it is to see the future, to look into nothing.

It is of no consequence. He is dead. She, in all her out-worldly wisdom, cannot bring him and his strange mental connection to her back. She needs to forget him.

She's taking a stroll right through the actual city of New Rome, and civilians keep looking at her strangely. Her blood doesn't have any of the golden-shine theirs does. It's bright red, like a sunset. Sometimes she wishes it was sea-blue, like a way to connect her to her past. Her future. Blue . . .

After she continues her walk for a few minutes, she stops in front of a statue of Bacchus (Mr. D, she thinks with a smile) and sits down on a bench, observing both the artwork of the statue and simply the scenery of her point. It's beautiful.

That's where Reyna finds her.

"They are going to start looking for you, you know," the praetor says, and Rachel turns her head to face the girl and sighs.

"Sometimes I just don't want to go to the meetings."

"Oh, trust me," Reyna laughs, sadly, and it sputters out. "We all feel that way. We have to go, though. It is our duty. As the ones the people put in power."

"They put you in power. Me? I was chosen by Lord Apollo, not democracy. They don't want me, just my sight. It seems clouded, as well, after the death of my Roman counterpart."

"We are looking for someone who has the same sight as Octavian. But until we find someone, it is going to be like this. I am sorry."

"You're not," Rachel chuckles.

"Yes. I am not. It is your duty, Rachel Elizabeth Dare. Go fulfil it."

"Walk with me?"

"Sure. I need to go as well."

* * *

Reyna is overtaken by civilians as soon as she and Rachel enter back to the core of the city. Rachel is pushed to the side and watches with amusement as her somewhat-friend is swallowed by the crowd. It's clear that Reyna doesn't appear in the middle of the public, not with a special guest, very often.

She stays in the throngs of the crowd, glaring at Rachel, who does nothing, until the clock-tower comes into Rachel's sight and she realizes that it is three o'clock in the afternoon. The meeting was scheduled to start at thirty after two. They need to go.

"Ay! Romans! Do you have no honor? Let your praetor go."

Her voice isn't very loud, but everyone seems to hear the insult. The lowest a Roman can go is to lose their honor. They part. Reyna runs out of them, grabbing Rachel's arm. They both sprint to the Senate, making it there in record time. But still late.

They look at each other and sigh before opening the door.

* * *

They take their seats, and they're surprisingly not the last ones there. In fact, they're some of the first. The rest of Camp Half-Blood (excluding Rachel) is nowhere in sight.

Reyna gestures Rachel to her seat before taking her own at the head of the house. Frank is already there, and Hazel is tapping her shoes on the ground below her feet. Percy and Annabeth are also seated, the trip from their college being easy. But Nico, Jason, Piper and Leo are—

"Running late," Percy says, his fingers jiggling while holding a cup of coffee. Annabeth is trying to grab it from him. Everyone in the room knows that Percy Jackson and caffeine will not do anything productive.

"They were going to shadow-travel with Nico, but he got sick—he's not coming, by the way—so they're tracking down Mrs. O'Leary instead. And you know how she gets with Leo. Afraid of the fire," Hazel explains, "but it should be alright. They'll drop in any minute now."

As she finishes her sentence, a crack sounds from above. Three demigods fall out of the roof, landing on top of one another. Leo Valdez is, unfortunately, at the bottom.

"Hey hey hey! I know you all love me, but that's a little too much cuddly for Leo!" he quips, and Rachel chuckles along with everyone else but Reyna, who looks more than a little angry.

"Valdez. Jason, Piper. Please sit down. We need to get started as soon as possible," she says with her mouth in a thin line. Leo sits next to Rachel while Jason and Piper slide in beside him.

"We need to discuss the usage of weapons . . ." Reyna drones, and while she continues her speech about weapons for legacies, Valdez starts to whisper in Rachel's ear.

"I like your hair. It's bright. Fiery. I like fire," he winks.

"Um. Thanks?"

"Can I touch it?"

"I guess . . . ?"

"Oh," he puts his hands in her hair, and she kinda likes the feeling. It's nice, to have someone touch her, sort of caringly. And his hands are warm. They smell a little like ashes. "It's soft, too."

To be honest, Rachel has mixed feelings about the boy on fire. He's funny, and really nice, and he always seems to smile at her when no-one's looking. She had always thought that was just to be kind, but the fingers that are now massaging her scalp tell a different story. It's been five minutes and his warm hands are still there. They—

"Valdez. Rachel. Are you paying attention?" Reyna asks, her eyebrows raised. Everyone turns to look at them. Rachel blushes. Leo takes his hands out of her hair. Percy whistles.

"You better treat her right, Valdez," he says.

Leo smiles. "I'm not going to be faking it."

The meeting continues with fire and fire and Leo and Rachel and it works.

* * *

"I'm not gon' act like I don't love ya baby 'cause deep in my mind, girl I know I do." — Calvin Harris, Faking It


End file.
